


The Tutor

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Featuring Adorable "Secretly a Bastard" Aziraphale, Hormones for days, Starring Crowley "Heart Eyes" McGee, high school sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Aziraphale is popular, outgoing, and one of the most accomplished students Holy Cross has ever seen. When he's tasked with tutoring the school's worst student he ends up getting schooled in a very different manner. (Waggles eyebrows).-“Aziraphale,” Crowley says thoughtfully, sounding out the name on his tongue. “You’re not asking me to corrupt you, are you?”The blonde doesn’t even bother to look embarrassed or uncertain. Instead, he affects one of his cockiest smiles. “Is that a truth or a dare?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 220





	1. The Crush

In one alternative universe, and bear in mind, only one in all possible universes, Aziraphale Fell was cool. Not exactly cutting edge, hipster cool, but he was generally perceived as popular, well-liked, and outgoing. He was the head editor of the school paper, the leader in community service hours, and a representative member of the Earth Club, Drama Club, Culinary Club, and even (shudder to think) the Glee Club. How did no one question this?

Anthony Crowley was another sort, perhaps more typical of his meta-character. He was what fell into the Goth category, all ripped skinny jeans and more often than not late to class as he illegally parked his motorcycle in staff spaces. He’d been kicked out of more schools than one might think possible, and the restrictive prep school he’d ended up at was the last stop. He had no intention of staying until he laid eyes on the angelic blonde, and he damned his eyes for that, because now he was hopelessly besodden with nothing to show for it.

Aziraphale was remotely aware of Crowley, in the same way that one notices a water spot on the ceiling and observes it might need fixing but instantly forgets. The blonde was much too occupied by the loving camaraderie of his classmates, his pressing duties on the prom council, and his current preoccupation with Shakespeare anthologies to notice. And why would he even think to notice?

The redhead spent most of his days at the back of any given classroom trying to set things on fire. Of course, that was only when he wasn’t sleeping through a lecture, which was more common. Add to this the fact that Crowley had never spoken a single direct word to Aziraphale. We aren’t counting the time they were assigned adjacent lockers and upon giving a cheerful greeting to the surly teen, Crowley made a grunting noise. So here we are. And each day goes on like the last, until...it doesn’t.

It just so happened that Anthony Crowley had been called into the counselor’s office to defend his paltry test scores, and was wrangled into tutoring for his poorest subjects including math, science, and english. These scores were not reflective of the redhead’s intelligence, but rather his motivation and desire to do any better. Either way, the counselor concluded that Anthony needed a ‘study buddy,’ as she put it, and the redhead didn’t have any real choice but to comply.

So here’s how he found himself walking into the study room after all of the other students had gone. To his dismay, the cherubic blonde was the only other person in the room.

“Oh, hello!” Aziraphale greeted him cheerfully. “I’ve heard you’ve had a spot of bother with your academic performance and I’m here to help with that. I’m Aziraphale!”

Anthony cringed as he gaped at the outstretched hand, which no way in hell would he ever take in his own. “Uh...yeah I know.”

“Oh good!” Aziraphale said politely as he withdrew his hand. “And you’re Anthony, I assume. It looks like we have quite a few issues to remedy, but not to worry. We’ll get you sorted in a jiff. Now, perhaps you can tell me the main problems you’ve been having.”

Anthony realized he’d been standing as if rooted on the spot while the blonde was sitting comfortably at the round table between them. Stupidly, he sat down and nearly missed the chair, righting himself immediately and trying to look composed.

“Er…” he struggled to answer. “I guess...school is...boring?”

Aziraphale fixed him with an annoyed look before clearing his face of judgement. “Perhaps you’re not being challenged enough,” he replied.

The fact that the blonde would even remotely assume that Crowley was gifted was enough to push Anthony’s righted ship off starboard course once again.

“Ummm,” was about all he had to offer on the subject.

Aziraphale was unphased. “Well there’s only one way to find out. Just take a look at this and do your best to answer. Take all the time you need.” He drew a crisp piece of paper out of his binder and slid it over to Crowley. It was a mix of questions and problems, much like any other test he’d ever taken, save for the fact that it combined several subjects in one. Nervously, Crowley drew out a pencil and looked at the first question.

It was basic math, a sum so simple he did it in his head without trying. He looked up at Aziraphale, who smiled reassuringly. Something about that smile undid Crowley. He wanted to prove himself to this exemplary student, not just to show that he wasn’t an imbecile, but to impress the blonde. He looked back at the paper and began to scribble furiously, finishing the work in under a minute.

Aziraphale took the sheet back and scrutinized the results with suspicion before looking up at the redhead curiously. “Anthony, I’m not sure you need a tutor at all, though your test scores suggest otherwise. Am I to understand you’re failing on purpose?”

Crowley shrugged but immediately regretted it. This was the one chance he had to legitimately spend time with Aziraphale. He had to do something quick. “I got lucky,” he breathed out. “Usually I’m rubbish. Believe me, I need all the help I can get.”

Aziraphale nodded even though he didn’t seem fully convinced. “Very well,” he agreed. “But you should know I’m no pushover. I expect you to take our appointments seriously. Arrive promptly. Keep working on your own for practice. If you can do that I’ll be happy to continue our lessons.”

Crowley smiled in relief, and didn’t miss the odd way Aziraphale looked down before peeking back up at him with a smile of his own. Oh god. Crowley’s heart just stopped. It would be awfully embarrassing when the ambulance had to take him away. But no, just a palpitation, and the closest to love he’d ever felt. This boy in front of him looked like an angel. Crowley’s hands fisted in his lap at the thought.

“So how often is that?” he asked, instantly damning his overeager wording. Aziraphale looked nonplussed, however.

“To start I think twice a week is sufficient. We’ll see how you progress and either limit or expand the arrangement after that,” the blonde explained.

Crowley tried to hide his delight with a scowl. He was going to be the worst student Holy Cross had ever seen.

-

Crowley was too excited to sleep in class the next day. The only way to distract himself from the jittery feeling of seeing Aziraphale again was by listening to the lecture. He even took notes. The one major distraction proved to be lurid daydreams of eventual sessions where textbooks were shoved off the table, Aziraphale’s face contorted into unrestrained passion and Anthony’s hips were thrusting up - Aaand the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

Fuck... But also yay! At last it was time to meet up for the tutoring session. Crowley caught himself running through the hall at least a few times. He made it to the assigned room in time to see Gabriel Arc exit. The senior’s face was flushed and he nearly crashed into Crowley before righting himself. Crowley stared suspiciously after him before stepping inside. His heart fell when he saw entered the room and Aziraphale looked equally flustered. Had they just made out or something? Crowley swallowed hard and flung himself down into his seat.

Aziraphale looked up as if noticing him for the first time. “Oh, I’m sorry...just…” He took a second to compose himself.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Crowley asked thoughtlessly. The need to know overpowered all other senses.

Aziraphale stared at him before letting out a humorless laugh. “No...I mean, not anymore. Please don’t worry about it.”

If Crowley had wings he would have taken to the sky. A breakup at the most opportune time. He chose his next words carefully. “Yeah, well...guys suck,” he said bravely.

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow and made a surreptitious appraisal of the redhead. “Mm, yes. I suppose they do. We should probably jump right in, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want to turn your valuable tutoring time into my therapy session.”

Crowley chuckled and drew his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. He happened to know this was one of his most fetching angles, all stretched out and draped over his chair with no cares in the world. He gloated to himself when he caught Aziraphale’s gaze shamelessly flitting over his form. “Guess not,” he replied lazily.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and brought out a stack of books which made the table groan under their weight. Right. Flirtation delayed for now. It was time to get to work.

An hour later, Crowley was still pretending to struggle with basic algebra, but gave enough signs of advancement to make Aziraphale feel successful in his endeavors. Both smiled at the conclusion of their session and the blonde began to pack up his books once more.

“How do you do it?” Crowley asked suddenly.

Aziraphale glanced up and waited. “Do what?” he asked when no further explanation was provided.

‘Make your lips curl like that when you’re thinking? Move your little finger like an artform? Blink so slowly I might fall into your eyes before they shut?’ All of these were follow-ups that might have tumbled from the redhead’s lips if he hadn’t caught himself beforehand.

“Balance all the life and school stuff,” he said quickly. “You’re pretty much involved in everything, right?”

Aziraphale turned thoughtful. “It is a lot. But you should know academics always come first.”

‘I’d like to make you come first,’ the traitorous words burn against his lips, begging to escape his mouth.

“What about you?” the blonde asks. “I don’t think you’re particularly involved at school but you do seem to struggle with the workload. Do you have involvements outside of school?”

Crowley freezes. A lie would be easier, but for some reason he’s compelled to speak the truth. “I um...take care of my mom a lot,” he says slowly. “She has some...struggles.” Yeah. If struggles included picking up her wreck of a body after yet another night of binge drinking so she doesn’t throw up and choke on it. Or fighting off her boyfriend when he falls off the wagon. He looks at the floor.

“That’s very noble,” Aziraphale commends instead. “Caretaking is a lot to take on at our age. I can’t even imagine with all my college applications and everything.”

“Yeah, well...it’s not like I’m going to college,” Crowley counters. He swallows hard.

“Why ever not?” Aziraphale sounds genuinely confused. Crowley doesn’t have the heart to answer, so he just shrugs instead. Good old self defense mechanisms.

Aziraphale doesn’t push, sensing that it would be rude to pry. Instead, he stands and grasps Crowley’s bicep. “With a little hard work you can do anything you set your mind to,” he said kindly. “You’re doing a great job here, for instance. I know it sounds trite but even if no one else does, I believe in you.”

He smiled warmly before leaving the room, and Crowley finds himself reeling in the wake. He runs to the closest bathroom and slams the stall door shut behind him. Part of him wants to cry, but more importantly… He yanks down his jeans and grasps his growing erection hungrily. With each stroke Aziraphale’s words play over and over in his mind. He imagines the blonde whispering roughly in his ear from behind. ‘I believe in you.’ With that one thought, Crowley comes in under three minutes.


	2. The New Deal

“You should let me take you out sometime,” Crowley said smoothly. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the study room before he saunters inside. Aziraphale looks up from his book and closes it immediately, shrinking against the wall as Crowley approaches.

“I don’t know,” the blonde stutters. “I’ve never been out with a real man before.”

Crowley smirks as he boxes Aziraphale against the wall between his outstretched arms. The blonde’s eyes are trained on his moist lips.

“Let me show you,” Crowley says as he goes to his knees. Aziraphale groans though he hasn’t even been touched yet.

Crowley bites at the enclosure of Aziraphale’s khakis, popping the top button deftly with his teeth.

Crowley is groaning into his pillow as he fucks his own hand and tangles in his sheets. It’s the fiftieth variation of the same theme that’s had him going for days. Sweat beads over his naked back as his hips dig into the bed. “Fuck baby,” Aziraphale gasps. His mouth is just about to -

The front door slams and Crowley sits up sharply, angry at the interruption. He hears raucous laughter and furniture being pushed around as his mom and her boyfriend stumble inside. He can already tell he won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Pointedly he stands up and shoves himself back into his boxers. He lingers at the door to his room before locking it. He’s not going out there, he promises himself. Not even if things get ugly. He’s tried and failed to get between them too many times.

Instead, he pulls out his cell and moons over Aziraphale’s number in his contacts. The blonde had put it in there the other day, just in case they needed to reschedule a session. As if Crowley would ever be the one to make that call. He stares at the name as if he could summon the angelic boy mentally. He nearly jumps when a text comes in from that very number.

‘Hey.’ It says, three dots blinking underneath.

Crowley’s mouth goes completely dry. “Hey,” he reads aloud. That could mean anything. He begins an internal list of all the ways that next sentence could go. The dots continue to blink, taunting him. Two minutes go by.

Crowley sets the phone down, refusing to keep looking at it. If it was important, Aziraphale would send another message. In the background, Crowley hears the sound of a pan banging on the ground, followed by an angry exchange. He buries his head in the pillow to drown out the sound, but then again, he doesn’t want to miss the text alert if it goes off. He listens to the muffled argument instead.

At last, the simple note chimes and Crowley waits before picking up the phone. Slowly he opens the text.

‘Do you know Anathema? She’s having a party tonight. I know it’s last minute but I can pick you up if you want to hang out. Thought you could use a break from the home situation, if you’re able.’

Crowley gasps. He glances at the time and sees it’s only nine on a Saturday night. A vision of Aziraphale riding up in a sports car wearing a fitted suit, mischief in his eyes. ‘Wanna go to a party?’ the vision asks coyly.

Quickly, he jumps out of bed and gets himself cleaned up, throwing on his tightest black pants, boots, and a grey v-neck t-shirt. A skinny ascot tie, black vest, and sleek blazer completes the look. He texts his address in reply and practically dives out the window to wait at the end of the driveway.

Even outside he can hear the altercation in the house growing more heated. He can only pray that Aziraphale won’t be able to tell over the sound of his car. He wouldn’t be surprised if the cops showed up before his ride...and then how to explain that?

Thankfully Aziraphale rolls up before that can happen, but Crowley is equally confused by the wood-paneled station wagon he’s driving. He holds his tongue as he slips inside.

“Well...let’s get it over with,” Aziraphale says sharply.

“What?” Crowley hands rise up to defend himself.

“The car,” Aziraphale laughs. “No one can resist insulting her. I’d just rather you did it now before we get on.”

“Her?” Crowley asks distractedly. His eyes have gone back to the house. He can see the shadows of his mom and her boyfriend through the curtains. They look like they’re grappling. Things are about to get bad.

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale captures his attention. “I was only joking.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your car is a nightmare. Absolutely hideous. Let’s get going.”

Aziraphale smirks and they finally set off into the night, much to Crowley’s relief. Once they get a few blocks away Crowley starts to relax, and he quickly notes that the blonde is not wearing a sexy suit. Quite the opposite. His t-shirt is baggy over plaid carpenter shorts, and lower still…

“Socks with sandals?” Crowley sneers. What. The. Fuck. Wait, why is that adorable?

Aziraphale laughs brightly. “Oh come on,” he argues. “Fashion is what you make it.”

Crowley glances down at his own attire in obvious disbelief, but catches Aziraphale eyeing him from the side. “True some are better at it than others,” he admits, a slight purr evident.

Crowley feels his face flush hotly and rolls down the window. “So where does Anathema live?”

Aziraphale slows to a stop and points at a house on the corner. “Not too far, actually,” he says. “Shall we?”

Crowley feels panicked suddenly. He’s about to go into a social situation where he’s not really friends with anyone there. Without a second thought his hand clamps down on Aziraphale’s, which had been resting on the gear shift.

“So who exactly is going to be here?” he can’t keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Aziraphale recognizes the fear in his tone and moves his hand. At first Crowley thinks he’s drawing away but he’s only adjusted to intertwine their fingers. Crowley stares at their hands as if he’s just witnessed a small miracle.

“Let’s see,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully. “Anathema obviously. My friend Newt. A few of our friends from the student council and...us.”

“Oh,” Crowley sighs in relief. “That doesn’t sound like the rager I was imagining.”

Aziraphale looks down at his lap. “I hope you’re not disappointed. I can’t imagine the kind of parties you go to.”

“Ah,” Crowley replies. He still can’t believe Aziraphale is holding his hand. “Then I hate to disappoint you. My days of strippers, kegs, and cocaine binging are over. This is much more my speed.”

Aziraphale laughs lightly and squeezes Crowley’s hand, sending a shockwave of tingles up his arm. He relinquishes his hold to step out of the car and Crowley moves to follow. His heart falls when the blonde doesn’t renew his touch, but keeps his hands anchored in his pockets instead. They walk up to the house and ring the bell.

-

In retrospect, Crowley had no reason to worry about Aziraphale’s friends. They were as kindhearted and welcoming as his tutor. But on the other hand, he had every reason to worry about Aziraphale’s friends. They liked to play party games.

“Seven minutes in heaven?” Crowley gasped. Anathema looked at him knowingly.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s harmless. One time I went in with my friend Pepper and we just watched YouTube on her phone. You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.” Her smile indicated that she had a hunch of exactly what Crowley wanted. It was unnerving.

Aziraphale swigged a glass of white wine before laying sideways on the sofa. “You’ll have to forgive my friend,” he apologized. “She’s obviously trying to hook up with Newt.” He whispered the last sentence but Anathema shot him daggers through her eyes all the same.

“So what’s it going to be, names out of a hat? And might that hat magically pair couples off in a very, non-random order?” Aziraphale was laughing, but Crowley could only feel his head implode at the thought.

Anathema grumbled before having everyone sit in a circle around the living room table. Crowley perched on the arm of the sofa Aziraphale occupied. An empty bottle was placed in the center.

“No cheating with your wiccan wiles,” Aziraphale’s friend Wensleydale warned. He was side-eyeing their mutual friend Brian with interest.

As it turned out, there were definitely some occult factors in place. Brian and Wensleydale were matched up first, followed by Newt and Anathema. The two pairs disappeared from the room, leaving only Crowley and Aziraphale.

The blonde wasn’t the least bit concerned as he refilled his wine glass. Crowley stole the rest of the half bottle and chugged.

“What?” Aziraphale asked as he noted the concern on the redhead’s face. “We don’t have to play. This is just Anathema’s way of forcing Newt’s hand. She’s been trying to get him to admit he likes her for ages.”

“And Brian and Wensleydale?” Crowley asked with wide eyes.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting with bated breath. Believe me though, the only hot action they’re getting into is discussing their next D&D campaign, much to Wensleydale’s disappointment. Brian will come around eventually.” Aziraphale shot him an easy smile.

“And us?” Crowley wasn’t even sure what he was asking.

Aziraphale sat up and placed his wine glass on the side table. “I don’t play D&D.”

Crowley tried to translate the expression on the blonde’s face but it was inscrutable. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

“Why did you invite me here?” Crowley asked suddenly. At this, Aziraphale merely leaned forward.

“Because I wanted to.” A shudder went through Crowley’s body in response.

“And why did you want to?” Crowley pressed on.

There must have been three feet in between them. Crowley wished desperately that he could move forward, perhaps bend down on his knees and crawl the short distance. What would Aziraphale do then?

“You know, maybe we should play…” the blonde counters.

Oh holy God.

“Play.” It’s the only word in Crowley’s vocabulary that seems to be functioning.

Aziraphale bites his lower lip and his right hand comes up in supplication. Crowley looks down at the hand and pales before taking it. And then the angelic boy is up and leading them away from the open living room, away from prying eyes.

They stop in front of a side room that’s set up like an office. There’s a computer desk and chair next to the world’s tiniest loveseat. Guess where they sat.

Their thighs are pressed together as they settle in, and Aziraphale’s face brightens into the most incredible smile Crowley has ever seen. From nowhere, Aziraphale brings out an extra bottle of wine. Crowley was too lost in the haze of handholding to notice him grabbing it off the kitchen counter on route. He uncorks and takes a deep swig.

“So here we are,” the blonde says cryptically. Crowley nods as Aziraphale hands him the bottle. “Seven minutes on the clock,” Aziraphale is actually setting a timer on his watch. “But let’s make it more interesting. A game within a game.”

Crowley swallows hard. His fingers are tingling.

“Truth or dare?” Aziraphale is positively beaming now. Crowley wonders if he’s gotten drunker than him. It might serve him well.

“Umm,” Crowley blushes. “Truth.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale ponders aloud. “Why did you transfer to Holy Cross?”

Crowley smiles at last. “Mm, got kicked out of the last four. Holy Cross is my last stop.”

“And the reason you got kicked out everywhere else?” Aziraphale pries.

“That’s cheating,” Crowley replies mildly. “You only get one question.”

Aziraphale’s nostrils flare, the first signal that he’s becoming annoyed, but the facial tic fades in an instant. “Have it your way. My turn.”

“Truth…or dare,” Crowley drags it out.

Aziraphale steals the bottle back and sips gingerly. “Dare.”

“Ooh,” Crowley teases. “You know I could make you do anything.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks are flushed and his eyelashes are fluttering. “I might like it.”

Crowley’s approximation of acting cool is instantly destroyed. He slips against the back of the couch as he tries to resettle himself. ‘Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me,’ is echoing through his head.

“Let me look through your phone.” Crowley smiles like a villain.

Aziraphale pauses before drawing his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks it and starts to hand it over but stops. “This may or may not have been hacked,” he says with a grin.

Crowley snatches the device and flits through the content eagerly. “Lots of contacts,” he mumbles. “Mr. Popular.”

Aziraphale giggles. “I’m sure half of them are people I work with on committees.”

“Let’s check out the photos,” Crowley continues to play detective. Aziraphale tries to look over his shoulder but the redhead pushes him away. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly.

Aziraphale’s face burns red. “Er...what?”

“This is the most boring camera roll I’ve ever seen! Are these seriously just snapshots of books and pages from them?” Crowley jerks his thumb up and the screen scrolls through endless images of text.

“Oh, my senior thesis,” Aziraphale explains. “Cheaper than a copier.”

Crowley finally gets to something that piques his interest but tries not to let on. Aziraphale has a shirtless selfie. He’s not athletic by any means but his collarbone looks tempting enough to bite. Surreptitiously, Crowley texts himself the image and smiles. “I’m too nice to look through your browser history,” he says as he hands back the phone.

“Thank heaven,” Aziraphale laughs. “Ok. Your turn again. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Crowley says again firmly.

Aziraphale looks a little disappointed but brightens in an instant. “Are you...um. Are you a virgin?”

Crowley can’t believe his ears. Aziraphale may look like an angel but he’s a right bastard when he wants to be. But Crowley is never one to back down from a challenge, however, so he stares the blonde straight in the face and says, “No.”

“Oh. I am,” Aziraphale offers. “What’s it like?”

This time Crowley does not call the blonde on his penchant for asking double questions. Instead, he lifts his arm and settles it against the back of the loveseat. His fingers are inches from Aziraphale. “Do you mean to tell me you and Gabe never did...anything?”

Aziraphale laughs shyly. “Well...not really. Just kissed and stuff. He was fairly prude. But I imagine you’ve had boyfriends…” He just leaves it out there. Crowley takes the bait.

“I wouldn’t call them that,” he smirks. “I know you think I’m some kind of a bad boy.” God he hopes he does.

Aziraphale shrugs and drinks from the bottle before handing it off to the redhead. “Well you’re not exactly a star student.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says thoughtfully, sounding out the name on his tongue. “You’re not asking me to corrupt you, are you?”

The blonde doesn’t even bother to look embarrassed or uncertain. Instead, he affects one of his cockiest smiles. “Is that a truth or a dare?”

Crowley swallows. Hard. He feels like he’s just been cornered. And the bright blue eyes staring him down are in checkmate. He leans forward subtly. His lips are parted, open and easy. Aziraphale’s watching him like a hawk. Slowly, so achingly slowly, Crowley moves closer. His brown eyes drift down to Aziraphale’s mouth which twitches slightly.

Just then, the alarm on Aziraphale’s watch blows the moment apart and Crowley is left dodging shrapnel. He launches to his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. The blonde is looking up at him as if he might sit back down again, but eventually rises up when he realizes that’s not the case.

“Saved by the bell,” Aziraphale jokes.

Crowley secretly vows to destroy every clock on the face of the earth. “I should probably get back home,” he says numbly.

Aziraphale nods and places the half empty bottle on the desk. “Absolutely. Let me grab my keys.”

The ride back is mostly silent save for some strange music pumping out of Aziraphale’s speakers. It’s not awkward though. It actually feels right. The windows are all rolled down and the night air moves around their bodies in wavy arcs. Crowley asks the blonde to stop a few houses ahead of his own, just in case the turmoil has kicked into high gear in their absence. Aziraphale parks and looks expectantly at his passenger.

“I hope you had fun,” he says, a little breathless.

“Course,” Crowley replies. He shoves open the car door but turns back around when Aziraphale calls his name softly. The redhead bends and splays his arms over the passenger door.

Aziraphale fixes him in his gaze and looks particularly serious. “So...I don’t think we need to continue our tutoring lessons,” he says.

Crowley’s heart slams against his lungs and threatens to escape from his body. “What? But why?” Tutoring is his only lifeline to the guy of his dreams.

Aziraphale grins and peers up at him. “Well...I kind of knew you didn’t need tutoring within the first five minutes of meeting you. Your answers on that test were impeccable.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“So then I started to wonder why you were there at all. What kind of high school student would waste so much time fake studying? Unless…”

Crowley is now starring in a musical called ‘FUCK MY LIFE.’ Catch him on Broadway. He stares at Aziraphale, wondering what’s coming next.

“It occurred to me that we might come to a different kind of arrangement,” the blonde continues carefully. “It seems you have experience in a department I lack.”

Crowley’s mouth drops open. “Wait...were you really serious earlier? You want me to…”

“I believe the term you used was corrupt,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully. “And yes. I’m off to uni at the end of the year and I don’t want to go...unprepared.”

Holy fucking fuckballs. Azirphale wanted Crowley to shag him senseless. Was it an unusual symptom that his mouth started watering? Not that he cared. Of course, Crowley should have turned the offer down flat. Here was his crush, possibly the love of his life, asking him NOT for a date, NOT to be his boyfriend, but merely to convey him on his passage to manhood. Anyone who hadn’t had the life that Crowley had, or wasn’t a 17 year old boy, or who had any sense of self-respect would never have gone along with it. But Crowley was Crowley.

“Yes,” he said quickly.

Aziraphale looked confused. “Are you...are you quite sure?”

The redhead nodded emphatically. “I am. When.”

Aziraphale broke out into a toothy grin before tilting his head, attempting a sexy stance. It was working. “My parents are out of town all weekend. How about tomorrow? You can come by around eight.”

Crowley breathed out, trying to contain his excitement. “Alright.”

“I’ll text you the address,” and with that, Aziraphale drove out of sight.


	3. Fine Print

Crowley had barely slept, making it difficult to focus on the road as he pulled up to Aziraphale’s house on his motorcycle. It was huge, a veritable mansion compared to Crowley’s place. He tried to conceal the nervous tremor in his hands as he rang the doorbell.

The blonde answered the door with a huge smile, but his hands were shaking too, Crowley noticed. At least he wasn’t alone. Aziraphale took him on a grand tour before ending at his bedroom. The space was ablaze under tons of lit candles. A bottle of champagne was cooling in an ice bucket.

“Wow,” Crowley said. “Romantic in here.”

“Yes, well…” Aziraphale looked around, surveying his handiwork. He walked over to the bottle and uncorked it before pouring a few drinks into empty champagne glasses. “Here’s to our new arrangement,” he said nervously. He leaned in to kiss Crowley but the redhead backed away.

“Just a second,” Crowley interrupted. “I just want to make sure you’re sure about all this. I mean, what’s the big deal about being a virgin anyways?”

“You tell me,” Aziraphale countered poutily. “If it wasn’t a big deal why did you uh…”

Crowley hedged before grabbing one of the glasses and sitting on Aziraphale’s white down comforter. “Um...The first time I thought I was in love. Turned out he was just a huge asshole looking to get laid, but he had me fooled. The next time was for revenge, but it didn’t really help the situation with the first guy. He didn’t even remotely care who I got on with.”

Aziraphale listened intently. “Was there a difference between them? Like how it felt?”

Crowley shrugged. “I imagine it’s different...and kind of the same with every person. It can be sweet and tender or rushed and intense. Sometimes it depends on your mood.”

The blonde considered this before downing his drink. “I didn’t just pick you at random, you know. I am...very attracted to you.”

Crowley knew this must be implicitly true, but hearing it was something altogether different. “Tell me more about that,” he implored.

Aziraphale grinned. “Well...I love your hair. It’s so beautiful.”

Crowley blushed and gripped his glass harder.

“And your body,” the blonde pressed on. “So skinny and sinewy but strong too. I want to see more of you.”

Crowley was worried he might break his glass so he gulped it down and shoved it onto the side table.

“You’re...unbelievably sexy,” Aziraphale followed up.

If Crowley had any self-control left at that point he couldn’t have located it. He found himself lunging across the bed and yanking the blonde into his grasp, their noses centimeters apart. He twisted until he was sitting in his lap.

“Yeah?” Crowley breathed out. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Aziraphale’s eyes mapped Crowley’s face until they locked in on his plump lower lip. Slowly, he brushed his own over Crowley’s, barely a kiss at all. For what little action this was it drew a needy groan from the redhead, who chased after Aziraphale’s mouth and devoured it. It wasn’t long before they were intertwining in a flurry of tongues and fingers landing anywhere they could reach. Crowley moaned when Aziraphale gripped his hair at the roots and pulled.

“Fuck,” the redhead gasped, pulling back. He didn’t want this to end. It was then that Crowley started to get a very, very useful idea. There was no need to rush after all. Aziraphale should experience every pleasure imaginable. Why sprint all the way to homebase without taking in the scenery?

He drew up and looked down at the blonde from above, his eyebrow cocked as he caught his breath.

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley’s eyes hooded and he resumed his open-mouthed kisses while his hand found the hard length of Aziraphale over his pants. His touch exercised a series of moans from the blonde.

“Did Gabriel ever touch you like this?” Crowley growled. Aziraphale whimpered and shook his head, bucking up into the clever palm squeezing him just right.

“Then I bet he never did this either,” Crowley continued. He slipped down Aziraphale’s body until he was on his knees, quickly unbelting the blonde and pulling down his pants. Aziraphale sat up while Crowley observed what he had uncovered with total reverence. The scrutiny unnerved the blonde who shifted uncertainly.

“What are you-” he started, but was cut off by Crowley’s lips grazing over his erection. Soft kisses alternated with hot breaths of air exploring every inch of him. A gentle hand moved up to stroke his balls, massaging left and then right as his kisses grew more passionate.

Aziraphale’s body stuttered under his assault while the blonde made a series of lewd sounds. And he hadn’t even taken him into his mouth yet. Crowley stroked him in his hand and watched Aziraphale’s face spasm and relax over and over again.

“God, I love your cock,” the redhead finishes the sentence in a moan that Aziraphale joins in harmony. “You could have anyone, you know that?” Crowley whispers. “But it’s me. And I want you to feel it. Feel what I’m doing to you the way no one else can.”

Aziraphale is bucking up, his hips rotating in a wild circle. Only now, when he’s nearing the edge does Crowley’s mouth sink over him, enveloping his now desperate cock in wet heat. The noise Aziraphale makes is a half-scream that careens off course when Crowley’s tongue lathes up and down over him, alternating sucking and licking in expert fashion.

The telltale sign is the pulsing sensation Crowley can discern on the flat of his tongue, and Aziraphale’s fingers tearing at his hair. He holds on for dear life as Aziraphale comes, and for a second it feels like Crowley’s own release until he realizes that he is rather quite alone.

The thought shocks him to his core as he pulls off and Aziraphale is reduced to a trembling mess on the bed. Crowley watches the blue eyes open and close, staring at nothing on the ceiling. The conquest has been made, it’s true, but something’s missing from the equation. The redhead schools his expression as he sits back on his heels. Eventually Aziraphale finds the strength to push himself up on his elbows.

“That was…” he falters. “I’ve never felt anything that good in my life.”

Crowley manages a half smile. “Then my work here is done.” There’s no humor in it.

Aziraphale seems to realize something’s wrong and sits all the way up, tucking himself back into his pants. “Can I umm...Would you like me to reciprocate?” There’s a lingering hunger in his eyes and Crowley knows the offer is not halfhearted. But it still doesn’t land where it needs to.

“Nah,” the redhead shrugs. “This isn’t about me. The arrangement, right? We’re just trying to tick off your boxes so you’re ready for the big leagues.”

Aziraphale frowns but nods along all the same. “Yeah, I mean of course. Thank you Anthony.”

Crowley’s stomach lurches but he makes it to his feet. “I should probably get on. School tomorrow and all that.” He adjusts his fading erection and makes for the door. “I guess I’ll see you there.”

Aziraphale makes an assenting grunt before his head hits the pillow. He’ll sleep well tonight.

Crowley sees himself out, careful to lock the doorknob before he goes. Once on his motorcycle all of the past hour replays itself like a soundtrack on loop. That night he takes himself in hand, but can only come when he imagines Aziraphale whispering in his ear heatedly. “Anthony. My Anthony.”

-

Aziraphale never fails to greet Crowley in the halls. He’ll make small talk even if his other friends are around, but won’t exactly linger to chat more intimately. After school, on several days each week he’ll suggest someplace for them to meet. And the days move steadily on.

Aziraphale can’t help but notice Crowley isn’t interested in being touched, at least not to orgasm. The deal is strictly business when it comes to the redhead, and sometimes Aziraphale has the decency to feel ashamed about it. What exactly was Anthony getting out of it?

For his part, Crowley only grows more smitten with every meeting. Their activities draw out longer conversations, sharp sparks of laughter, and sometimes, the smallest bit of tenderness. After jerking Aziraphale off the two lay in bed together and it’s easy for Crowley to forget the arms wrapped around his torso don’t truly belong to him. He’s adrift and it stings.

Sometimes Crowley imagines what it would be like to tell Aziraphale how he feels. That as much as he enjoys giving the blonde pleasure he wants reciprocation. It seems laughable in his head when he admits it to himself, so he keeps those feelings in check. What would Aziraphale see in someone like him, anyways?

In time, Crowley concludes that his feelings won’t be returned for one reason or another. Maybe Aziraphale has higher standards, or he doesn’t want to get entangled with a wash out. It’s not like Crowley’s going to get some great job after graduation (if he even graduates). More than likely, he’ll end up at the auto manufacturing plant where his mom works eleven hours a day. There’s no way Aziraphale would settle for someone like him, great sex or no.

It’s about a month later that Crowley decides he has to find a way to move on. Maybe if he meets someone new... Although he’s not really planning to stop seeing Aziraphale, he puts himself ‘out there’ as they say and ends up meeting some guy at a concert. It’s agreed that they’ll meet up for dinner over the weekend.

Aziraphale is eager to see Crowley on a brisk Friday afternoon before fall break. He finds the redhead sketching under a tree after school lets out and sits next to him with a big smile on his face.

“So, my parents are out of town again this weekend,” he confides cheekily. One finger reaches out to tuck a strand of red hair behind Crowley’s ear. The gesture evinces a small war between Crowley’s weak heart and better sensibilities.

“I um,” the redhead attempts. “Maybe? Not Saturday though.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says easily. “Got a hot date?”

Crowley’s cheeks burn and the blonde is caught off guard. “Wait...really? You’re...you’ve met someone? Does that mean…”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Crowley returns a bit too gruffly. “It’s just a date.”

Aziraphale’s eyes harden almost imperceptibly. “Yeah I guess. But still serious enough to blow me off.”

Crowley flinches and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “It’s not like we had advance plans.” He stews in his anger for a moment. For lack of a romantic relationship it feels like they’re still managing to bicker like a real couple. It feels more than a little unfair.

The blonde gazes at his drawing instead of replying immediately. “That’s pretty good,” he deflects.

Crowley looks back at his sketch and crosshatches some shadows over the landscape. He’s never really had much confidence about his artwork. The small amount of praise is embarrassing, but it also feels good. He can feel his resolve melting away. “Sunday,” he says automatically.

Aziraphale brightens and begins to rub slow circles over Crowley’s back. “I was thinking maybe we could...you know...go all the way this time.”

The redhead clenches up and nearly snaps his pencil. He’d been avoiding that kind of intimacy for fear of its consequences. He already felt like he was head over heels half of the time. How could he continue to protect his heart if he allowed himself that next step with Aziraphale? But he was also starting to run out of excuses. Too terrified to admit the truth, Crowley merely nodded.

Aziraphale leaned in and nibbled on his earlobe. “Looking forward,” he said softly. The blonde left Crowley sitting under the tree like a forgotten book. But then, Aziraphale would never forget a book. Crowley stared morosely out at the world and its enduring cruelty.


	4. Needful Things

There was one time, and one time only that Crowley slipped. He’d been cuddling with Aziraphale after one of their pre-arranged meetings when out of nowhere, he asked the question he shouldn’t have asked.

“Zira,” he began. “It seems to me you’ve got everything going for you. I mean, I feel like you could get any guy you wanted. Why are you slumming around with me when you could have a steady boyfriend? Maybe get something more meaningful out of the sexual stuff.”

Aziraphale rolled away and sat up against the wall. The loss of his warmth and soft skin was like a pickaxe in Crowley’s heart. “I just...I tried the whole relationship thing with Gabriel. It’s not like there weren’t enjoyable parts to it, but he kept demanding more and more of my time. You know all the things I’m involved in… I felt like I was constantly letting him down or hurting his feelings. As things went on I realized he’d be happier with someone else.”

Crowley focused on his breathing while simultaneously damning himself for speaking.

“I think the worst part is how much he needed me,” Aziraphale went on. “Like super clingy and desperate for my attention. That got old real fast.”

The redhead tilted his head to stare out the window. Aziraphale might as well have been talking about him. He felt that same need and desperation. It reminded him of his childhood, chasing his mother around their house for the smallest amount of attention. He hadn’t succeeded there any more than he had here with Aziraphale. The blonde didn’t seem remotely interested in formulating a long-term attachment. The fact that he spent most of his time talking about his college plans was another nail in the coffin. “Why get caught up in something that’s just going to end?” he’d said once.

Crowley blinked several times to will the tears away.

-

On Sunday Crowley arrived at Aziraphale’s and helped himself to the bottle of red waiting on the kitchen table. The blonde had just gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in a silky white robe like a sweet waiting to be unwrapped. Crowley steeled himself. He could give Aziraphale what he’d been wanting.

They took turns sipping their drinks before Aziraphale held out his hand and led Crowley up to the bedroom. They collapsed on the bed like they had done dozens of times before. Usually Crowley would take the lead, but tonight Aziraphale wanted to change things up.

He sprawled over Crowley and slid his exposed thigh up to the redhead’s waist. A sneaky hand crept down and pawed over his pants, rubbing at his length until it began to harden. Crowley’s eyes rolled back, allowing the touch even as he cursed himself.

“Oh,” Aziraphale admired the growing expanse of him. “You’re big.”

The dirty sentiment sent a wave of pleasure coursing through Crowley’s body. He jerked up to fight back against the gentle pressure. When he opened his eyes he was panting softly. To his surprise, Aziraphale was looking down at him with an undisclosed expression. The blonde’s eyes were wide and imploring as if he’d just seen Crowley for the first time. His pink lips were parted and sucking on the tip of his tongue. It was a sight.

Aziraphale pressed on by pulling Crowley’s belt from the loops and gently drawing the zip on his pants down. He pushed away the obscuring fabric and admired Anthony in all his glory, his eyes practically fucking the redhead’s throbbing erection.

“Oh Anthony,” Aziraphale moaned softly. “God you’re beautiful.”

The blonde untied his robe and moved so that their cocks could rub against each other. Crowley was practically crying for want of more contact, for Aziraphale’s mouth to drift down and take him in his teeth. Instead, Aziraphale stood up and let his robe drop to the floor. He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube, giving Crowley a knowing smile.

The redhead nodded and accepted the lube, slicking over his own erection before arranging Aziraphale into the desired position on all fours. Crowley stood and moved slicked fingers to the blonde’s waiting hole. He hesitated before dropping to his knees instead, burying his face into the cleft of Aziraphale’s ass. With strong, purposeful licks he began to eat him out.

If Aziraphale’s repertoire of sexual noises had been fully catalogued, this action rewrote the oeuvre. He started to beg before he even knew what he was begging for. Crowley expertly moved his shining fingers to the blonde’s cock and stroked in time with his tongue. Eventually Aziraphale’s protests grew too loud and Crowley’s fingers replaced his mouth. At the entry of the first finger the blonde gasped so hard Crowley thought he’d come, but there was still work to do. Two more fingers later and he was ready, eagerly dripping in anticipation.

Crowley took himself in hand and paused just at the brink. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. Somehow that question wasn’t just for Aziraphale. The blonde pushed back to locate his erection.

“Please,” Aziraphale moaned.

Crowley pushed in slowly, and the feeling triggered so much more than he could have ever bargained for. Everything until now had been just for Aziraphale, but this was something they could share. He sank in and stars shot out of his eyes for the sickly sweet pleasure of it. Aziraphale was impatient, and power bottomed his way toward pulling Crowley all the way in. Crowley didn’t have the strength to resist, and was fully seated in under a minute.

His hands moved to Aziraphale’s hips and he barely had the wherewithal to hold on as the blonde rocketed back and forth on his cock. The thought of the blonde’s virginity barely registered. His voraciousness could have fooled anyone.

It’s been a long time since Crowley’s done this and he’s already beginning to unravel. It’s bad enough that Aziraphale’s creamy cheeks are bouncing wetly against his body, or that the sounds he’s making could make the redhead come untouched. No, what’s worse is the litany of deeply buried feelings that are making their way to the surface. ‘I love you,’ he screams in his head. ‘Oh fuck never leave me.’ But there isn’t anything to leave. It’s the arrangement, after all.

Angrily, Crowley grasps Aziraphale’s love handles and fucks the contempt he feels right into the blonde’s asshole. Aziraphale responds immediately, welcoming the ferocious shift in pace. Both are crumbling away, two glaciers burning under a scorching sun. It won’t be long now.

Crowley comes and an animalistic cry is torn from his throat. Aziraphale whimpers through his own release, a defeated whine as he rides the lingering waves of pleasure. And then they’re falling jerkily, arms and limbs in a tangled mess. Crowley falls asleep almost immediately. Sweet fucking release.

-

Crowley woke up to find Aziraphale staring at him. Not just like he wanted the redhead to wake up, but staring intently, as if a world of internal thoughts was wending its way through his mind. Crowley couldn’t quite read the expression, but it contained wonder and elation. A job well done, he supposed.

“So,” Crowley said groggily as he eyed the clock. 11 p.m. “Was it everything you’d hoped for?” He stretched his arms above his head like a lazy cat.

The blonde froze. “More,” was all he could think to say.

“Good. Right. Well then…” Crowley was stirring as if to move but Aziraphale pinned him down under a heavy arm.

“I um...I guess I forgot to ask you,” Aziraphale said nervously. “How was your date?”

Crowley grimaced, unprepared for the question. “It was...really nice actually. Went to that new Italian place. Good conversation, lots in common, you know the drill.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale commented. His eyes were like lasers digging into Crowley’s soul.

“You sound disappointed.” Crowley had meant to dig up a humorous tone but it fell flat. He was too tired to select his words carefully.

“Maybe I am,” Aziraphale replied so quietly he might have said something else.

Crowley rose up on his elbows, defeating the blonde’s resistant arm. “What?” he asked plainly.

Aziraphale’s eyes went on vacation, taking in the sights of the ceiling, the comforter, even the walls for respite. “I just…”

Crowley sighed. The trouble with loving someone so completely, (and fuck, was he ever in love until now?) was the treacherous stumbling of hearts trying to reach one another. Was this Aziraphale’s attempt? He trained his gaze on the blonde and waited.

“It’s all so unfair to you,” Aziraphale followed up. “You know my plans for the future and it’s obvious you’ve got your own. Maybe with this fellow of yours.”

Crowley smirked. “Luce,” he said quietly. “That’s his name.”

“Right,” Aziraphale replied curtly. “If you’ve got something real on the line it’s selfish for me to ask you to continue our arrangement.”

Crowley stilled. His chest was a freezer cooling its contents. Yet, he waited. Lingered like an unused puppet on a string hoping for Aziraphale to say anything else.

“Sure,” Crowley spat when the blonde left it there. “You’ve gotten what you wanted after all.” He stood up so fast the world might have shifted on its retrograde. His piled on his clothing like a competition. Aziraphale was trying to say something, he barely made out in the background, but the words were just buzzing in his ears. He had to escape. It was over.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale captured him with his voice.

The redhead hadn’t even realized his hand was on the doorknob. He retracted his hand and stared at it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the blonde, cherubic and interlaced with crisscrossing sheets like a damn Renaissance painting.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said weakly. “I know you didn’t have to-”

Crowley rounded on him, clutching the bedposts with white knuckles. “Didn’t have to what? It’s not like you paid me. But if you wanted a whore you could afford one. Maybe I should have insisted on it, in retrospect. I’m nothing but a body to you, a void to fill some hole you can’t name. So yeah. Go to college and find your dream guy, or whatever you think is your destiny.”

Crowley was so angry he could hardly articulate the words that came next, but they were just and he felt it was true, if coldly served. “You deserve it.”

There was nothing Aziraphale could have said to keep him there. He was out the door and on his motorcycle before the next coherent thought bothered to show up. Aziraphale’s scent wafted over him, fresh and clean and irresistible. He drove as fast as he could as if to outrun it.


	5. Have Hope

A few weeks went by along with about a hundred unopened texts from Aziraphale. Crowley wasn’t having any of it, and instead turned his attention toward his new boyfriend Luce. It was inevitable that he’d have to see Aziraphale around school or otherwise, but he was completely surprised when he glimpsed the blonde coming into the front door of the coffee shop he and Luce hung out in.

Crowley narrowed his eyes. He had specifically designated spaces for himself throughout the city where Aziraphale was unlikely to go. It was easy enough to avoid libraries and school events, but this was another matter altogether. The blonde didn’t even drink coffee.

Luce had been in the bathroom and returned at that moment, shoving into the same booth as the redhead and kissing him hungrily. He could tell immediately that Crowley’s heart wasn’t in it and stared at him knowingly. “What’s wrong?” the brunette pouted.

Crowley’s eyes shifted back toward the door and saw Aziraphale staring at them. He quickly looked back at his boyfriend instead. “The coffee here is shite,” he lied. “Maybe we should go somewhere el-”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because a stern blonde presence had entered the atmosphere.

“Where have you been?” Aziraphale demanded.

Luce leaned back into Crowley’s shoulder protectively. “Uh...do you know this guy?”

Crowley nodded warily. “From school. What do you want Aziraphale? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I can see that,” the blonde hissed back. Suddenly his demeanor returned to its usual sweet nature and he extended a hand to Luce. “Sorry. Hello! Nice to meet you.”

Luce nodded and shook his hand before turning back to Crowley. “I’m gonna go get a refill,” he said politely as he picked up his mug and abandoned them at the table. Crowley silently cursed him in his head.

Aziraphale plopped down across from Crowley and crossed his arms expectantly.

“What do you mean ‘where I’ve been’?” the redhead let out, exasperated. “I thought we’d settled things between us. It’s done.”

The blonde blushed and looked down at his empty hands. “Yes, well… I wasn’t sure if you were continuing your relationship, but I can see you are.”

Crowley’s face twitched. “Right. And what’s it to you?”

Aziraphale crumpled as he leaned back against the padded booth. An errant tear ran down his cheek and Crowley fought the urge to lunge across the table to catch it. “It’s just I…”

Crowley checked on Luce and noted he was still in a short line to the register. “What?” he demanded. “If you have something to say to me you might as well spit it out.”

“Our last discussion didn’t go how I’d planned,” Aziraphale managed. “In fact, it all turned out quite the opposite.” He struggled to formulate his next sentence while Crowley looked on expectantly. “What I had meant to say, or admit, was how jealous I was when I found out you were seeing someone.”

Crowley couldn’t help the celebratory flip of his stomach at the idea. “Okay,” he stated evenly.

“And well…” Aziraphale’s fingers spread out over the table’s surface, inching toward the center. “I’d actually thought a lot about the two of us and rather had a stunning realization. I told you how Gabriel clung to me, needed me like air and how much I hated that.”

Crowley grimaced. How could he forget? He glanced over to see Luce was next in line.

Aziraphale’s hands had migrated to hover over Crowley’s without daring to touch. “I didn’t even realize when I started needing you,” he breathed. His blue eyes were pooling with tears. “But I do, Anthony. Believe me I do.”

Luce was handing over his cup for a refill and Crowley felt like he was facing an imminent bomb explosion. Which wire to cut?

And then Aziraphale was standing up and shoving his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, looking morose. “I can’t expect you to say anything to that,” he confessed. “But I wanted you to know. Just once. I don’t really think about anything outside of you anymore. And I...well, I miss you.”

Luce was walking back and slid easily into the booth, a hand digging into Crowley’s upper thigh. “Alright?” he asked quietly. The redhead merely nodded.

Aziraphale’s eyes went to the floor. “Right, well. I’m off then…” He turned before Crowley could manage to formulate any kind of reply. Instead, he allowed his head to drop onto Luce’s shoulder, focusing on remembering how to breathe.

-

That night Crowley stared at his ceiling, hardly noticing the sound of breaking dishes and raised voices. All he could think about was what Aziraphale had said. How he’d used the term ‘needed.’ He pawed at his phone and brought it close to his face, willing himself to open the unread messages that had been stacking up for days. At last, he pressed the contact he’d most wanted to open, and was astounded by what he saw there.

The first message had come in only minutes after Crowley had stormed out of Aziraphale’s house.

‘I’m sorry. I just acted like a complete arse. There are things I wanted to say to you but I was a coward.’

Then twenty minutes after that. ‘I wish you were still here. Please, I want to talk.’

Five more messages imploring the redhead to reply continued into the early morning. The next day was much the same.

‘I can’t believe I let that happen. I can’t believe I watched you walk out the door. I’ve been such an idiot. Please, Anthony.’

And then, ‘I understand if you never want to talk to me again after what I said. Nothing came out right. Is there any way you’d ever consider letting me make it up to you?’

The next few weeks of texts carried on the same way, begging for contact, apologizing, and trying to explain the real motivations behind Aziraphale’s words.

‘I was so angry when you started talking about Luce. I thought if I pushed you, you might break and tell me he meant nothing. Maybe you would even have told me how you felt about me. I wanted you to say that what we had was real. I wanted to tell you I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. Anthony, I don’t know what to do without you.’

Crowley read the messages with tear-stained eyes. Aziraphale’s frenzied reaction to seeing him in person made a lot more sense now. But where did that leave Crowley? He wanted to believe Aziraphale more than anything, but what if he opened himself up only to be hurt again? He wasn’t sure he could survive if Aziraphale changed his mind.

-

Crowley was drunk off of his face. He was currently surrounded by Luce and his friends, Hastur, Ligur, and Beeze. They had crashed one of the preppy parties and it only remotely occurred to Crowely that Aziraphale might make an appearance. This was his scene, after all.

It had been a month since Aziaphale’s surprise confession which Crowley had yet to respond to. He wanted to believe he hated the blonde, but deep down he was simply terrified. Everytime he thought about Aziraphale his stomach flipped, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when seeing him for the first time in public practically gave him a heart attack.

He caught the blonde’s profile as he walked out to the back porch to join his friends. Crowley sank lower amongst his own, hoping to keep out of sight until he could make his escape. He made an excuse about needing the bathroom and slunk off to hide. Unfortunately, the blonde had glimpsed the redhead and was having the exact same inclination. Crowley hadn’t managed to shut the door so Aziraphale walked right in, not noticing him behind the door.

“Oh. Ngk. Fuck,” Crowley slurred, slumping against the door and accidentally closing it. Shit, he could barely stand, let alone hold any kind of conversation.

The blonde looked stricken and moved to help Crowley stand upright, but reconsidered this action and opted to stick his hands in his pockets instead. “You alright?” he asked sincerely.

“M’fine,” Crowley grumbled. His hand grabbed at the doorknob and missed by a mile. “Bugger,” he stated as he slipped to the floor and landed unceremoniously on his ass.

Aziraphale was now literally stuck in the room unless he moved the redhead bodily. He checked the window behind him and realized it had been nailed shut, but it was on the second story so small chance he would have used it anyways. He decided to sit cross-legged on the floor as an alternative, staring morosely at his former lover.

“So...erm,” he attempted. “How’ve you been?”

Crowley looked like he was concentrating very hard before suddenly, he lunged toward the toilet and undrank a small sea of vodka. Aziraphale didn’t think twice before he was behind him, rubbing his hand on the small of Crowley’s back and speaking soothingly. “That good, huh?” he joked. Crowley gave him a small smile before praising the porcelain god once more.

Aziraphale grabbed a paper cup from its dispenser on the sink and filled it with water. “Here, drink this,” he suggested. Crowley drank it up before flushing the toilet and resting his head down onto the cool bathroom tile. Slowly, he started to laugh.

“Look at the state of me,” he chuckled. “Can you believe you used to think that I was even remotely deserving of your attention?”

Aziraphale grew very serious as he leaned against the door, their positions reversed. “Used to isn’t the right term.”

Crowley opened one eye and aimed it at the blonde. “You...do?”

Aziraphale smiled gently. “Falling in love isn’t exactly curable over a matter of days. Years maybe. A few decades?”

Crowley managed to lift his upper body so that he could lean against the wall. “Love…” he said softly. His = eyes began to sparkle. “You’re not saying-”

“I am,” Aziraphale interrupted. “Very much. And for quite some time I think, though I was too stupid to notice. You know what’s funny? Seeing you now, unraveled and helpless like this…”

Crowley cringed and shrank in on himself, but Aziraphale merely smiled. “It makes me love you even more. More than I thought possible. Maybe I’m selfish because I want to pretend there might be times when you need me. As much as I need you. Or at least maybe once upon a time that could have been true. Do you despise me, for all that?”

Crowley’s face fell and the tears poured freely from his eyes. He shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried and I really tried for a while.” He started to laugh at the thought and Aziraphale joined in.

“I’m not sorry you failed,” Aziraphale said at last.

“I’m not brave,” Crowley followed up. “I let myself hope for the things I want, but I never act on anything the way you do. The truth is I do need you. Not just when I’m sick. All the time. Aziraphale how could you have ever doubted I loved you all along?”

Crowley looked up and watched as Aziraphale stood. He strode toward him before stopping to dig in a drawer and pick out a sealed toothbrush. He squirted some paste on it and gingerly held it out to the redhead. “Freshen up, Anthony,” he whispered. “Because I’m going to kiss you ‘til the sun comes up.”

Crowley popped the brush in his mouth and scrubbed eagerly. “Wait,” he said in a muffled voice. He pulled out his phone to compose a brief, but clear text to his current boyfriend. He frowned as the message sent but smiled immediately afterwards at the blonde. Aziraphale helped him stand and spit out the paste, tenderly wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tightly.

Suddenly Crowley whirled around and grabbed onto Aziraphale like he’d disappear otherwise.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he begged.

Aziraphale held him close and nuzzled into his neck. “You’re not,” he promised.


	6. Full Circle

Aziraphale drove them back to his parent’s place, which was abandoned as usual. Crowley had been sobering up nicely and had regained the basic ability of walking. They all but tumbled into bed anyways.

The blonde’s teeth were nipping at Crowley’s ear, tracing down his neck and nuzzling into the spot where his shoulder intervened.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered. “My Anthony.”

Confessions of love were paltry in comparison. To be owned, to be possessed, to belong to someone was all that Crowley had ever wanted.

“I’m yours?” he stuttered back in return. His eyes rolled back as Aziraphale pushed him into the mattress.

“You’d better fucking believe it,” the blonde growled. His body toppled into a cave-in, weight that tumbled down like a force of nature. Crowley was pinned beneath and loved every second of it.

“Please,” the redhead begged.

Aziraphale grabbed his waist and flipped him around effortlessly, kissing the back of his neck. “God. Anthony...you’re so beautiful. Let me show you that you’re mine.”

Crowley couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. They slid down his cheeks as his clothing was greedily yanked away.

“Wait,” he croaked helplessly, naked and trembling. “Please wait.”

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale immediately froze in place. “What’s wrong?”

The sentiment only made Crowley cry harder. The blonde realized his frame was shaking and grabbed him around the middle to calm him. “What is it, love? I know I hurt you in the past. You’re scared?”

Crowley nodded imperceptibly but Aziraphale picked up on it all the same. “Shh,” he breathed. “Never again. I’ll never hurt you like that again. You’re everything to me, don’t you know? We don’t have to do anything tonight. I don’t want you for your body. I want you for who you are. Just to be here with you is enough, my angel.”

Crowley stuttered at the endearment. “M’ not,” he protested. “Everything but.”

“Not to me,” Aziraphale said, a dangerous tone entering his voice as if daring the redhead to test him. “You’re my light at dawn.” A finger trailed down Crowley’s spine with gentle reverence.

Crowley shivered. “I love you,” he confessed into the sheets. Aziraphale bit into the crook of his neck possessively. “I know my love, my beautiful boy,” he replied.

“Make love to me,” the redhead demanded. All signs of tears and sadness abated. He cast his eyes behind him and found Aziraphale’s eager and glistening.

“You’re sure?” the blonde asked delicately.

Crowley smiled and bit his lower lip impishly while lifting his ass to grind against Aziraphale’s crotch. “Please! Don’t keep me waiting,” he begged. His movement had the desired effect of making the blonde let out a feral growl. He covered his fingers with lube from a nearby bottle and quickly spread the redhead’s cheeks apart.

One finger teased his exterior before inching inside. Crowley lay prone on the bed, digging his erection into the sheets in fitful shudders. Aziraphale loved to watch him ride his finger, and sucked on his own tongue everytime the redhead made a sinful moan, which was often. After teasing him for a long while, Aziraphale added a second finger.

“Fuck, Anthony,” the blonde sighed. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Crowley bucked up against his hand. “Give me more,” he begged. The third finger slid in and the redhead practically sobbed with pleasure.

“I think I just found a spot you like,” Aziraphale said deviously. He tried and succeeded in hitting it with every inward stroke.

“Agh,” Crowley protested. “I’m not gonna last like this.”

Aziraphale looked down at his fingers sliding in and out of the redhead. It was so lewd but he wanted to keep watching a while longer. He liked the way Crowley’s ass strained as he worked the muscles to thrust against the bed. He heard the hitch in Crowley’s breath and knew he’d have to enjoy that luscious sight some other time. He pulled out and shifted so that his erection fit perfectly in the cleft of Crowley’s cheeks, not even bothering to take off the rest of his own clothing.

“Love?” he asked quietly, checking in. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Oh god, Aziraphale,” was the reply. “Please!”

The blonde didn’t need any more prompting, but slicked himself up and pushed in gently, bowing his head when the pleasure took over. Crowley’s muffled noises drove him on, a litany of moans and useless words.

He worked himself in to the hilt and only moved again when Crowley started to demand it. His pert ass pressed up against the blonde’s body, creating the perfect cushion for his balls.

“Ohhh fuck,” Aziraphale was already unraveling. Crowley was too good, too hot, too tight. It was incredible. He moved until he came dangerously close to the precipice and had to pull out.

Crowley whined softly at the loss and turned back toward him. Aziraphale had laid down on his back and held out his hands. “Come here baby,” the blonde said heatedly. He pulled Crowley forward and helped him settle on his lap. “I need to see your face,” he whispered.

Crowley nodded and sank down, taking the blonde inside of him for the second time. Thankfully Aziraphale had calmed down a bit with the transition because the redhead wasn’t holding back at all now, riding him for all he was worth.

Aziraphale’s fingers reached out to brush over Crowley’s nipples, rewarding himself with a strangled moan from his partner. They were tumbling over the edge together and shedding weeks of agony to revel in the pure devotion they felt for one another. Together the way they should have been from the start.

Crowley threw his head back and came just before Aziraphale, his hands bracing on the blonde’s soft stomach. They toppled off the edge of the bed and landed on the unforgiving ground beneath. Crowley wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but their mutual mirth went on for several long moments, quaking in each other’s arms. At last they started to calm down and twisted the mess of sheets into a nest on the floor, too exhausted to readjust.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered into the redhead’s ear. “Thank you for trusting me again. I won’t let you down my love.”

Crowley sighed in contentment and wrapped himself around the blonde’s torso. He didn’t doubt it for a second.

-

Dawn bathed them in the glow of early light. Crowley’s hair was ruffled beyond a recognizable cut, and fluttering under Aziraphale’s even breath. Their limbs were entangled, if not irretrievably linked at this point. The two might have melted together from any outside perspective, but thankfully, they were alone in their mutual contentment. It was Crowley who roused first and looked down at his sleeping partner.

“My dearest love,” he said softly, unable to stop the sentiment spilling from his lips. His heart was so full it might burst, but he continued to stare like an overdosed addict. He could hardly believe the sight before his eyes.

Aziraphale woke up halfway, enough to turn with Crowley in his arms, wrapping one leg around his waist like a child tucking in with a stuffed animal. The redhead protested, but only lightly.

“Zira,” he muttered, kissing the blonde’s neck.

Aziraphale cocked open one eye in a halfhearted squint. “Mph,” he replied in a haze. “Morning angel. God I love you.” He gained momentum as the other eye caught up and he could take in his fill. The sinuous redhead was all hard naked limbs around his body. “I love you,” he said again.

Crowley smiled brightly. “Never stop saying that.”

“I won’t,” the blonde promised. “Maybe it’s the only thing I’ll say from now on.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Crowley returned, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.

Aziraphale ran a hand through red locks and squeezed tightly at the roots. “You remember when we first met?” he asked lightly.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “The so-called tutoring session. How could I forget? I’d been in love with you for years, long before then.”

“Mm-mm,” the blonde corrected. “No we met before that. Sophomore year after you transferred. Your locker was right next to mine.”

Crowley shook himself free as he sat up on his elbows. “You remember that? I didn’t even think you knew who I was!”

Aziraphale laughed. “I mean, I didn’t know your name at first, but yeah I remember. I remember thinking that my girlfriend and I needed to break up. It was your eyes I think that did me in.”

“The fuck?” Crowley countered, shock etched into his features. “You mean to tell me you had a crush on me from all the way back then?”

His boyfriend shrugged. “I mean...yeah. I just didn’t think a guy like you would ever be interested in me. You were so cool. I started dating Gabriel instead. He seemed more my speed...preppy and boring, that is.”

“Oh God,” Crowley fretted. “So much wasted time. We’re a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

“I think I take the cake there,” Aziraphale countered. “If I had been honest from the beginning...well...it doesn’t matter now does it? All ended up alright. No complaints here.”

“So the tutoring thing…” Crowley pressed on. “That was a coincidence, right?”

Aziraphale buried his head into the pillow suddenly. “Well...I’d been on the tutoring list for some time, but when I saw your name…”

“Fuck!” Crowley shouted. “You signed up to be partnered with me? On purpose?” His eyebrows knit together. “But you acted like you didn’t even know my name!” He stared into space for a moment before realization dawned once again. “And the whole...the arrangement thing!”

“Um, yeah,” the blonde’s voice was muffled by a mouthful of feathers.

“Our first time...the candles...the champagne… Aziraphale, were you trying to sweep me off my feet?” Crowley dragged the blonde away from his hiding place in the pillow. His pale cheeks were blazing red with embarrassment.

“It was so dumb,” Aziraphale cringed. “But I thought if I asked you out you’d just turn me down. The um...arrangement was the only thing I could think of that might work on you. Then maybe you’d get to know me and maybe even start to like me back.”

Crowley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But all that shit you said about Gabriel! I asked you why you didn’t want a boyfriend and you started talking about clinginess and how relationships sucked and they all just end anyways…”

Aziraphale cut him off as he sat up, hunching over his legs and looking at the wall. “That conversation...," he said glumly. "I...I thought you were trying to drive me into someone else’s arms. I know it sounds stupid, really fucking stupid now, but I thought that was your way of telling me to move on. I didn’t want anyone else, and I certainly DID NOT want Gabriel. What I said about him was true, but that had nothing to do with how I felt about you. I said later at the coffee shop that I didn’t realize when I started needing you but that was even remotely accurate. I knew exactly when. It was that day when we were talking about Gabriel. It was in that moment I realized the way he felt about me was how I felt about you. At that point I was just waiting for the inevitable...for you to break my heart.”

The pair were silent for a long while.

“I didn’t realize that you really wanted me until the night we fought about Luce,” Aziraphale admitted. “I was trying to act all hard like I didn’t care initially, but what you said about me finding my dream guy... Well fuck. I'd already found him. By then it was too late. I’d lost you.”

“So we just...danced and danced around each other,” Crowley mused. “It’s even worse than I thought.”

“We’re not even very good dancers,” Aziraphale added. Crowley cracked a smile at that.

“Listen,” the blonde started. “From now on, no more deception. I’m going to give you my honesty, one hundred percent. Nothing more, nothing less. You were right about us wasting time. I don’t want to waste a single second longer. Not with you. You think that’s something we can do?”

Crowley nodded, wrapping his arms around the love of his life. He absolutely did.

-

In one alternative universe, and bear in mind, only one in all possible universes, Aziraphale Fell was a complete idiot. Anthony Crowley was another sort, perhaps more idiotic in some ways and smarter in others. Between the two of them, they shared exactly one brain cell. Fortunately, that’s all it took to sustain them, once they figured it the fuck out already.


End file.
